


Fools, Twice Over

by antimonyandthyme



Category: G.I. Joe - All Media Types
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-02
Updated: 2019-10-02
Packaged: 2020-11-10 17:04:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20855252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/antimonyandthyme/pseuds/antimonyandthyme
Summary: The hurt, bewildered sound Storm Shadow makes is uncensored this time. “Did you come here to gloat, brother,” he bites out. “Remind me who’s superior?”(In which Storm Shadow gets injured, Snake Eyes is overly concerned, and the two ninjas somehow manage to leave more unsaid than before.)





	Fools, Twice Over

Storm Shadow stumbles in at slightly past four in the morning. It’s his gait Snake Eyes notices first, awkward and deliberate, as if his usual grace has been painfully stripped from him. Snake Eyes surges to his feet, reaching out for Tommy.

_Storm Shadow_, the rational part of his brain chides. _It’s Storm Shadow, not Tommy._

“What are you doing here,” Storm Shadow snarls, batting him away ineffectively, and if the situation were any less alarming, Snake Eyes would’ve smiled. Storm Shadow is prickly at the best of times, and downright uncooperative when cornered. He’d caused the Arashikage healers so much trouble that they’d tied him to the bed once. 

And what had he done? Broken him out, uncaring of the consequences, loyal even then to his sword brother. Loyal even now. He tightens his arms around Storm Shadow, dimly aware his grip is just shy of punishing. 

Storm Shadow stops struggling for a moment to protest. “Leave me,” he demands, but it sounds tired, and it’s a losing battle anyway, if there ever was one. Snake Eyes isn’t going anywhere. 

_Hold still_, he taps out a command on Storm Shadow’s forearm, pushing his fingers hard into the wiry muscle. Something in his touch stays Storm Shadow, enough for Snake Eyes to half drag, half carry him to the bunk. He maneuvers Storm Shadow carefully out of his gear and shredded uniform, and then has to suppress the vicious urge to punch something when his sword brother’s chest is finally bare.

Bruised ribs, he catalogues instantly, made even more obvious with Storm Shadow’s pained breathing. There’s a mottled, ugly bruise blossoming on his abdomen, the purple patterning into the shape of a fist. Worse still is the shallowly bleeding wound stretching from Storm Shadow’s left nipple to the edge of his right hip. A sword strike, precise and lethal, meant to maim.

He’s surprised by the anger that boils over in his gut, threatening to spill out and scald them both. He wants to grip Storm Shadow and yell with his useless voice. _Who did this to you. Whose lives end at the point of my knives?_

“Snake,” Storm Shadows croaks, and even his voice sounds ragged, “it’s nothing.” 

Realistically, Snake Eyes knows he’s right. He feels his way down Storm Shadow’s chest, prodding for hidden injuries, gritting his teeth when he hears the way Storm Shadow swallows a gasp. But there are no critical wounds, none that are life-threatening. Storm Shadow has been through far worse; they’ve caused more damage to each other through a round of heated sparring. But he loathes it whenever Storm Shadow is so flippant with his life, whenever he treats his body like a meat-suit, uncaring of the way he bruises and breaks it. 

Snake Eyes tilts his head slowly, knowing that Storm Shadow can accurately interpret that gesture as a very unimpressed _the fuck you mean by nothing?_

Storm Shadow shifts his gaze away, muted.

_Was it Cobra?_ He taps out, fingers pressing into his brother’s ribcage. The Joes are peripherally aware of the side errands Storm Shadow runs, and they’ve so far operated on a _don’t ask, don’t tell_ policy, so as long as he doesn’t wreak undue havoc or go AWOL. 

Jinx’s lips were pressed thin when Roadblock brought up Storm Shadow’s regular disappearances, back when it had only been a couple of months since Storm Shadow became a member. “Sometimes,” she said severely, “it’s better not to know.”

_It’s his way of seeking redemption_, Snake Eyes signed to Roadblock when Jinx melted away from the conversation, because Roadblock is good at worrying and Snake Eyes had no wish for suspicion to fester. _There’s bad blood left out there, and he’d rather that blood be on his hands than on ours._

_Than on mine_, he doesn’t say, though it’s clear. It’s clear to anyone who bothers to look what lifeline tethers Storm Shadow to the team.

Roadblock raised an eyebrow, about to where his hairline would be, if he had a hairline. But that had been the end of the discussion. Roadblock trusts Snake Eyes, and Snake Eyes trusts his brother. There’d been no more questions on Storm Shadow’s solo missions. 

Until now. His brother’s wounded state erodes at his self-control, prompting him to dig his fingers into Storm Shadow. _Why won’t you ask for help? What won’t you tell me?_ So determined he is to elicit an answer that he forgets his strength, presses his hands too brutally into sore spots. 

The hurt, bewildered sound Storm Shadow makes is uncensored this time. “Did you come here to gloat, brother,” he bites out. “Remind me who’s superior?” He pushes himself up with effort, leans in close to Snake Eyes’ face. “Maybe you like seeing me like that? Weak, pathetic, and _so beneath you?_”

Snake Eyes flinches away, guilt colouring his cheeks. He’s glad for the mask, though Storm Shadow knows him well enough to discern every expression. Knows him well enough to be able to push any of his buttons. A secret, shameful part of him thinks that Storm Shadow may be right, that he would delight in any power he can hold over his brother, if only to keep him _here_. To keep him from running away. To keep him safe. 

He can’t meet Storm Shadow’s accusing gaze now, so he busies his hands with first-aid. Gentles his touches as he cleans the wound and applies a dressing. There’s a throbbing moment after he’s done where he’s unsure of what to do, painfully conscious that he’s overstepped, so he taps out a simple request on his brother’s arm. 

_Forgive me._

Storm Shadow stares at him, assessing. “For what?”

Snake Eyes wants to sigh. His brother will make him spell it out, of course. _For questioning you. For questioning your loyalty._

“You trust me, brother?” Storm Shadow asks then, sounding more unsure than Snake Eyes has ever heard him, and it cuts him to the core.

_With my life._

“Then let me do what I have to do,” he says wearily. The tense line in Storm Shadow’s shoulders dips. “I ask much,” he continues quietly, in a rare moment of self-clarity, “I know.” 

_You don’t ask enough_, Snake Eyes taps back agitatedly in response, and hopes his brother understands. That if only Storm Shadow would ask, Snake Eyes would raze his enemies down, tear the organization apart with his bear hands to prevent them from touching his brother ever again. 

“Fool,” Storm Shadow says, but manages to make it sound vaguely fond. “This is my battle to fight.” He wraps his fingers around Snake Eyes’ neck though, to take the sting out of his words. 

Snake Eyes leans forward, resting their foreheads together, and breathes deep against the sudden irrational swell of affection, so overwhelming it makes him ache. He pushes the traitorous sentiment down, wondering how long he can keep it hidden from his brother’s eyes. Wonders if his brother already knows. 

No matter. He slides down on the bunk, counting Storm Shadow’s willingness to make room for him as a victory. For now, Snake Eyes will wrap a protective arm around him, he will keep his brother safe, and it will be enough.

**Author's Note:**

> Broody ninjas get me. All the damn time.


End file.
